


Views From Thedas

by Kosho



Category: Dragon Age (Video Games)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-07-19
Updated: 2019-07-19
Packaged: 2020-07-08 20:58:56
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,255
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/19875991
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Kosho/pseuds/Kosho
Summary: We explore and see plenty of Thedas in the games and the books and the comics. We know there must be more across the boundaries we see.I aim to explore the possibilities of the rest of the world, and possibly, a separate fic may bring some of these characters to Inquisition.





	Views From Thedas

**_Ivici, Orastai 9:30 Dragon_ **

_ The Journal Of Nicolai Vasiliev (Translated) _

The fighting here has erupted full scale. Would that I could do more to settle matters for myself. I cannot contain it, no attempts at peace have yielded any good, the soldiers seem endless, many so young, unaware they’re being marched to their death. 

They cannot have an endless supply truly, not when they’ve sent their elderly, their fathers, and now they send their sons. Our grounds fill with wounded, and my son has been forced by the sheer amount to help. Yuri is but a child, one I’d rather see sitting inside, blissfully unaware of the horrors of war. Yet for a strange sense of humor, he has magic. We’ve lost many with the knowledge of healing we need, and we aren’t due to see the arrival of more from the outlands for days still. 

My wife ushers in the wounded, in order of severity. Yuri busily hunches over, sweat on his brow. I see the exertion is taking its toll, he’s exhausted, pushing past all of it to tend a horned warrior. He’s taken grave injuries, Yuri ripping off his armor to access the worst first. 

We’ve lost some too, bodies lining the outside of the building. It’s sad to see my people piled under a fresh layer of snow to await burning. Would that our aggressive neighbors did not wish so many bodies on either side. We will triumph, as we have always, but the bloodshed seems pointless just for a chance to weaken our defenses. 

Truly, there is no gain. Our lands are cold, sour soil is largely infertile. We are surrounded on all sides by beasts both fearsome and plentiful. There is no gain when the continued success of our home relies entirely on the cooperation of our blended style. Where most would isolate their kind, we chose to accept all who would offer their backs with which to lift as one. 

The last of our wounded arrives, a young woman nursing a wound across her arm. Yuri favors her with a gentle smile, talks to her to help her through the pain while he bathes her injuries in the gentle light. This woman, I have seen before. She cooks for the soldiers, and while it is a thankfully small injury, it disheartens me that even she was not spared either. Many with no home on the fields of war have come in, mothers, children. We’ve seen terrible things in these dark times, and I would set them right. 

The woman bobs her head gratefully, going for a thin, threadbare coin purse. He smiles again, shaking his head. 

“I do not need this.” He refuses. 

He is a sweet boy, and yet I can only imagine how much longer that will last before this war changes him completely. 

* * *

**_9:38 Dragon_ **

_ Yuri _

Sasha hands me a box, looking quite pleased with himself. 

“If there is better gift than this, it is getting to test it out right away. If not? I eat my hat.” He says confidently. 

I’m careful to open it. I’m not afraid it’s fragile. Sasha doesn’t bother with fragile, and I am not disappointed. A pair of tyufyaki, one noticeably different from the other.

“This one is for black powder. This one is for the magic!” He explains enthusiastically. “You run out of powder, this works.” 

He’s been my protector of sorts for around eight years, since I saved his life. Something about a debt of honor. Claims we are brothers, even if not by blood. I like him well, he doesn’t bother me pointlessly like so many. 

“You say we can test these? Where?” I ask. 

Much of the war ended a few seasons ago. Any rebel factions left behind had been swiftly put down. I imagine it must be yet another group acting without thought. 

“On the  _ targets _ .” He says seriously. “I know it is boring, but no fighting is good for business. We have a chance to prosper again.” 

Before I’m about to reluctantly agree to the idea of unmoving targets, a hand grips my shoulder .

“You must come in, my lord. You have matters to attend to.” He says. 

I stare at his hand for a moment. The war has left impressions on me. I’ve known him for years, but it still troubles me. Forcing a smile, I grip his hand, pulling it off my arm. 

“You will  _ not _ do that again, yes?”I say. 

He frowns, rubbing his hand slowly. “Yes, Sorry.” 

He’s by no means frail. A man maybe ten years my elder. Tall even by human standards. Much like my  _ brother _ , who stands a good two feet over me. That’s not counting whatever height he gets from his horns. No, despite how unforgiving these lands may be, they do not breed weakness, at least. 

I’d like to test out my new toys, but it would appear that I’m to waste away in meetings learning skills our still recovering lands do not require. In eight short years we drove out our enemies and rallied men and women from all points of our land to come and rebuild, and the answer was loud and clear, enough to make mountains quake: to hold power, gain power. The people begged safety and called for the push to expand our borders. 

To that end, I labor. Diplomacy is a good first step. Failing that, we seek different means. Talk first, then crush resistance, and welcome new brothers and sisters, treated fairly and like kin, most are quick to accept. Or so it has been since we’ve begun. 

Waving Sasha to follow me, we retreat into the castle, footfalls echoing down marbled halls, a bastion of hope and the collective dream of our people in the midst of all. Unlike the kingdoms and countries I’ve read of in books, our approach is different. I know everyone in the castle by name, from the lowest on the chain up to my father. 

We sit at the table, my father’s eyes a fair bit more serious of late. He smiles at me with unfailing kindness. 

“What business is there?” I ask. 

“No business, my cub.” He says. “But it is your name day. I thought you’d like to meet your gift.” 

“Meet?” I ask. 

I assume it must be an arrangement of sorts at first. Then he waves to someone I can’t see initially. Dmitri walks in struggling to entice something to follow him, managing a success after a few passing moments. There, next to him is a young bear, one of Macha’s I’d imagine. She too, was a war rescue, glad to be treated kindly and fed rather than killed to become food. 

“Give him a name.” He suggests. 

“I like Renat.” I say after a bit. 

Squatting down, I offer the bear a piece of fish, which he sniffs curiously before taking from me, affording me the chance to give him a few scratches of greeting. 

“Are you pleased?” Father asks hopefully. 

“How could I not be, look at this face! He will be strong like the mountains, but for now, he is quite cute.” I reply. 

“Good, good.” He sighs. 

“I suppose I go bear-proof castle…” Dmitri grouses more to himself before he wanders off to see to it. 

“Suppose we’ll be hunting something else after all.” Sasha muses. “Bears eat much, it will give you a chance to try your new weapons.” 

“It  _ is _ a good bit more entertaining than targets.” I agree. 


End file.
